Th Prime Directive
by captainlobotomy
Summary: Sickfic Season one Mutating virus is making it's way through some of the bridge crew
1. The Riker Situation

It started with an abnormal perspiration in his feet, Commander Riker shuffled his legs uncomfortably in his seat on the bridge. It had been smooth sailing and the only reason the bridge crew weren't in their quarters was due to a standard route change. Riker couldn't quite place his feelings but he didn't feel right, making him increasingly uneasy. Deanna wasn't helping his unease, he could tell that she was picking up on it, making both of them more and more anxious. "Deana, are you sensing something?" The captain asked, observing her palpably uncomfortable stature.

"Yes sir, but just on the bridge, my defences are down. I will try to control myself." Deanna answered, trying to gather herself. Riker bit his cheek, a small cloud of guilt enveloping him. Deanna looked back at him. Of course she could feel that too. Deanna hugged herself tightly, trying to repress emotion.

The captain eyed her keenly, "your presence is not needed on the bridge. You may return to your quarters." His demand was concealed as suggestion.

"Yes, sir," she answered, giving Riker a final glance before leaving. The commander adjusted the collar of his shirt awkwardly.

A few well timed coughs alerted the captain's attention toward his first officer, "Dr. Crusher to the bridge," he ordered. Riker's gaze shifted toward the captain, highly alerted.

The doctor entered the bridge with her usual haste, "Dr. Crusher reporting, captain."

"Yes, doctor. Would you do me the favour of escorting Commander Riker to sick bay?"

Riker nearly jolted out of his seat, "I assure you, Captain, that is not nes-"

"Do you mean to undermine my command, number one?"

"No, sir..." Riker surrendered.

"Then you may proceed along with Dr. Crusher."

"Yes, sir." Riker hung his head slightly in defiance and followed Beverly off the bridge and into the turbo lift. Riker was unwilling to admit his unwellness to himself until he was inside the turbo lift. He fought harshly against being subdued by gravity.

The doctor exited the turbo lift quickly as Riker stumbled behind, his heavy stature working against him as he travelled.

Beverly gestured toward a bed for the Commander to sit on. He swiftly utilized the bed to lay completely down, letting out a sigh of relief as he did. Riker closed his eyes as the doctor scanned him, finishing up strangely quickly. "Just as I suspected," she observed.

"What would that be, doctor?" Riker opened his large ocean eyes and smiled in his charming way, concealing the aches he began to feel in his throat and body.

"A virus, the same one I sent Wes to his quarters for."

"Am I fit to return to duty then?" Riker asked rhetorically, getting up from the sick bay bed.

"Oh no, mister. You will do just as my son has and get some rest. I will notify the captain. Don't make me count to three." Riker grinned, holding his hands up in surrender, "Dr. Crusher to bridge, I have relieved Commander Riker to his quarters."

"Captain Picard, here. Acknowledged, doctor, thank you."

Riker sauntered out of sick bay, eager not to let his suave facade up until he was safely in his quarters. Unbeknownst to him was that his skin was beginning to grow pale, his eyes baggy, sunken and bloodshot. Nonetheless the man continued to smile and swagger down the halls back to his quarters.

Riker sunk into his bed graciously, lazily taking off his uniform and pulling his blanket over him.

Picard let his face fall into his palm, lamenting on the loss of two members of his bridge crew. No matter, once they were well on their new course, the bridge would be vacant regardless.

The first officer was roused by the opening of his chamber door. He blinked his stubborn eyes open to see the blur of the half Betazoid, Deanna. The psychologist was greeted with a look of confusion from the first officer. "I came to see how you were doing," she explained.

"You could no doubt tell how I was doing by the other side of the deck," he said.

"I always feel you, Bill. I came to help."

"I appreciate the sentiment..." he started.

"Just as I understand your reluctance. Let me."

"Well it's not as if I have any other choice," he groaned.

Deanna placed the back of her hand gently on Riker's head, brushing his moistening hair back out of his face. He let out a miniscule hum in gratitude while he closed his eyes.

Deanna watched the rise and fall of the commander's chest while he breathed, contently. After a while she noticed his chest rattle, shortly after, Riker woke to a coughing fit. His abdominal muscles protested with every straining cough, he doubled over, letting his hand fall over his torso. Deanna rubbed his back before he fell into bed again, whimpering. "You're getting worse quickly," Deanna noted.

"Hopefully that brings the promise of a speedy recovery," he joked, his voice raspy and strained.

"Sleep now," Deanna instructed, brushing the first officer's hair gently behind his ear, the sensation causing his eyelids to fall uncontrollably. The Betazoid sensed the comfort quickly overcome him and smiled.

As expected, it wasn't long before the commander was awake again. This time, crying out before rushing out of bed toward the bathroom. Riker pleaded against the inevitable as he gripped the cold porcelain, knuckles white. Deanna was almost immediately by his side, embracing him slightly. His throat contorted and protested as he retched, continually. It wasn't long before he began to shake violently, unable to bring up any stomach contents. His diaphragm strained painfully, causing his ribs to pop out of place. His stomach muscles were exhausted. After his body was done trying to dispel his organs the first officer let himself fall backward onto the cold, hard floor, being caught by his Betazoid companion. Deanna let the commander rest upon her lap while he released a multitude of coughs and whimpers. Sweat accumulated on his back, he continued to shake all the while. Troi gently cascaded her fingers against the commander's stomach, singing softly to him. Not long after, the whimpering subsided, replaced with heavy breathing. Deana could both hear and feel the rattling in his lungs.

"You cannot sleep here." The Betazoid said after Riker had started to get comfortable on her lap.

"Interfering is against the prime directive," Riker moaned stubbornly.

Deanna laughed, putting Riker's arm around her shoulders. "Come on. You belong in bed right now." Riker groaned, allowing himself to be helped up by the Betazoid. The first officer steadied himself enough to use his own strength back to the bed. He slumped into it, too exhausted to put himself into a more comfortable position.

Deanna pulled his blanket over him. "This sucks," he said, allowing his misery to manifest on his face in the form of a grimace.

"At least it's good you didn't go back to your duties," Deanna commented, trying to make light of the situation. The thought of working in his condition caused Riker to wince. His stomach started to twist, sharp pain radiating through his torso. The commander ground his teeth together, trying to suppress the pain. "Bill?" The psychologist asked, "what is it?"

The first officer whimpered, "damn stomach ache," he answered, trying to down play the severity of the pain.

"You're in serious pain. I am getting the doctor." Will nodded, unable to fully respond. "I will be as fast as possible." She kissed his forehead, he could see the tension welling in her heart plain as day across her anxious face before she absconded.

Deanna jogged into sick bay to see the doctor hovering over a bed, sensing concern and something not unlike great burden. Upon closer inspection, it became obvious that the bed was occupied by the young Wesley Crusher. "What's the matter with him?" Deanna asked, observing Wesley.

Beverly jumped slightly, not noticing the entrance of the Betazoid. She sighed heavily, "a virus as far as I knew but it's mutating quickly and irrationally, seemingly at random."

"Is this the same thing that has overcome Commander Riker? He is in much pain."

The doctor sighed again, "yes, yes, I believe so. Here," Beverly handed a hypo to Deanna, "this should subdue the pain and..." The doctor turned, searching her vicinity before picking up another hypo and handing it to the Betazoid, "and this should help with the nausea."

"Thank you, doctor." The psychologist accepted gratefully, she tried not to express rudeness by being too obvious that she was in a hurry but after she had left sick bay she sprinted back to Riker's quarters.

In the short time she was away much had changed, Riker was now sweating uncontrollably and writhing in bed. "Be still, my love." She said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, he tried to steady himself but still rocked slightly. Luckily he was still enough for Deanna to administer the hypos.

Riker quickly collapsed with relief, "thank you," he sighed.

Deanna started to caress the commander's face, easing him into relaxation and eventually rest.


	2. The Wesley Mutation

Beverly was reviewing the virus on her computer when she heard a low rumbling sound, accompanied by some crashes. She stood immediately, rushing toward the sound to find her son thrashing and convulsing. "No, no, no..." She pleaded, gathering a hypo and sedating him. She allowed herself to lay her head on her son's bed to try and regain control of her emotions. "Dr. Crusher to Deanna."

"Deanna here, yes, doctor?"

"I need Commander Riker to report to sick bay immediately."

The colour from the Betazoid's face drained, "right away, what is it, doctor?"

"I'll brief you in person. Crusher out."

Deanna though to herself for a moment, chewing nervously at the inside of her mouth. She gently placed a hand on Riker, rousing him slowly and as comfortably as possible from his sleep. "What is it?" he groaned unprofessionally.

"Dr. Crusher has made it more that apparent that we should return to sick bay."

"Why?" he hauled himself upright, feet on the floor.

"She notified me that she would rather discuss it in person."

Riker sighed, "sounds serious," he shrugged.

"Let me help you up," Deanna offered, grabbing Will gingerly by the arm and helping him to a standing position, or as close as he could get in his condition. His head spun at first but he soon got a hold of his bearings, more or less.

Before he was even outside of his quarters he was dreading a ride in the turbo lift. He attempted to stifle a tired whine to no avail and felt Deanna embrace him tighter, looking at him with concern and confusion with her captivating black eyes. "Just feeling a little sick, don't worry." He assured her, his charming smile more forced and his wonderful blue eyes brightened by the harsh red of his bloodshot sclera.

The two got to the turbo lift with relative ease. "Sick bay," Deanna commanded the computer. Will had already began taking deep breaths and bracing himself. What he did not anticipate was how much more hostile his encounter would be this time around. Riker was quickly sliding against the wall into a sitting position. He curled in on himself and as expected, Deanna's hand was on his back, supportive and more comforting than he had anticipated. The half-Betazoid knelt beside him with the turbo lift doors open. Riker could not control the uncomfortable amount of saliva accumulating in his mouth. Coupled with the sudden heat that had overwhelmed his body and his general dizziness he was in no position to stand. That is, without the possibility of undermining his authority as a first officer by puking in the enterprise corridor, not that he was so well put together curled up in the fetal position in the turbo lift.

Eventually his breathing steadied and Deanna helped him to his feet. The doctor was again startled in sick bay but this time by Riker's appearance. "That bad?" Riker asked vainly.

"Sorry, Commander." Beverly offered Riker a bed in sick bay near Wesley in case she needed to quarantine them, a prospect she was hardly prepared for aside from that one precaution. Riker laid down graciously. "How are you feeling?"

"Like if I got any worse I could see death's face." Riker wasn't one for a dark sense of humour unless his ass was on the line, luckily his warm smile was, as usual, in his favour in dissipating the concern.

"Not if I have anything to do with it!" Beverly chimed in cheerily. Luckily for her, Riker's nonchalance seemed to lessen her worry over her son.

Dr. Crusher pulled a chair up next to Wesley's bed, closing a curtain between the two inhabited beds. Beverly checked the time, expecting her son should be waking from the sedative soon. To her relief, the doctor was right. Wesley opened his eyes wearily, slowly blinking to adjust to his knew level of consciousness. "How are you feeling?" she asked, more tenderly than she would with the first officer.

"Better," he offered before groaning, "skin is sensitive," he noted, "and itchy." The doctor didn't bother to grab her scanner and proceeded to lift up her son's shirt where a constellation of red dots had surfaced on his skin. Beverly scattered toward a hypo and administered it, hoping it was enough. She sighed with relief when the marks started to dissolve into her son's olive skin. Wesley sighed with her, "thanks, mom" he said, closing his eyes.

The doctor vacated the curtained off premises, visibly flustered. "Beverly?" Troi asked.

"Oh, Deanna," she acknowledged, "is commander Riker alright?"

"Sleeping like a baby," she smiled. "You seem... well, rattled, doctor."

"It's this virus," the doctor admitted, "the chemical composition is the exact same in both Wesley and Commander Riker but the symptoms are different and erratic. I have no idea how to proceed and the more information I get the more lost I am." Beverly stopped for a moment, resting her slender chin on her delicate physician's hands. "Maybe it's time I took this to the captain." She said, staring into the sanitary void of the blank white wall, a fixation of many of her epiphanies.

"I'm sure at the very least he would expect to be briefed on the condition of his first officer." Deanna suggested.

"You're right. Thank you, Deanna." She smiled genuinely at the psychologist.

Troi nodded, "I'll accompany you if you'd like, I would like to request an absence from my duties for the sake of Commander Riker."

"That's very sweet of you." The doctor ascertained.

The two women proceeded to the main bridge after the doctor gave the necessary commands to her staff in her absence.

"Ah," Picard greeted, "Doctor Crusher and Councillor Troi."

"Captain," Beverly started, "could we have a moment to speak to you."

Picard looked puzzled for such a brief period that only Data could possibly have noticed thoroughly and accompanied the two off of the bridge. "Captain, there seems to be a problem with my initial diagnosis of Commander Riker."

"Oh?" Picard asked, "how so?"

"Well the virus seems to be mutating based on individuals, or environment or- something." She allowed herself a pause to breathe, "Wesley experienced some kind of manifestation of an epileptic episode after a sore throat. And after the seizure he seemed fine, other than some fatigue when a rash appeared. I just can't seem to figure it out."

"I have my utmost confidence in you as always, Doctor." The captain assured, "and you, Counsellor?"

"In Will's condition, Captain, I don't feel comfortable in my ability to adequately preform my duties. I am requesting a leave of absense."

"I see," Picard postulated, "you're dismissed, Doctor." Beverly nodded and left. "Why do you feel this way, Deanna?"

"If you haven't noticed, Captain, Commander Riker and I are very close." The Captain nodded. "But it's not only that, we have a very strong psychic link, I feel him more strongly than anyone else. Him being unwell his a legitimate distraction from my duties that can impeach my performance."

"Granted, counsellor." Picard smiled, "I trust you and Doctor Crusher will bring my first officer back to me safely."

"Ay, Captain and thank you," Troi and Picard made their way back back to the bridge where they parted ways.

When Beverly Crusher arrived back in sick bay her attention went immediately to Commander Riker and her son, her priority patients. She was more than concerned to see that the part of sick bay containing her priority patients were flooded by her staff. "What is going on here?" She demanded.

"Commander Riker," a staff member answered, "his temperature reads at forty degrees Celsius."

"We have taken several measures to improve it and are about to take another reading."

Beverly sighed, "thank you, doctors and Wesley?" She asked, failing to conceal her concern.

"Resting, no change in his condition thus far." Dr. Crusher nodded and moved to continue her study of the virus before taking any more samples from her son or the first officer.

Deanna arrived in sick bay just in time to feel as passing wave of dizziness and watch a staff member collapse. Before she could part her lips to call for Doctor Crusher she was on scene, assessing the fallen crew mate. "Initiate quarantine protocol."

Beverly turned around quickly and fluidly while Troi admired her professionalism. She had not often seen the doctor in such a dire situation in person and the control and professionalism intrigued her. "Crusher to Picard, one of my staff members has suddenly collapsed while treating commander Riker and I am issuing a level one quarantine."

"Acknowledged. I'll send commander Data to assist you seeing as there is no risk of him contracting the virus."

"Minimal risk," Data corrected.

Picard nodded, "Commander Data, you have your orders."

"Yes, sir." Data said before making his way to sick bay.

While the swarm of staff members prepared quarantine the doctor utilized the time to see her priority patients. Wesley was stable and still completely asleep and Riker's temperature had improved but that was about as far as she got on observation with him before Data reported, "is there any way I can currently be of assistance?"

"Well I'm probably going to need some more samples to observe the more recent mutation patterns."

"Yes, Doctor."

After the suddenly high strung doctor assigned a physician to her fallen staff member Deanna approached her. "Can I see him?" She asked. Beverly ruminated, "I suppose it is only a level one quarentine..." She started, having an understanding of Deanna's need. "Ask one of the inters to assist you with the necessary precautions first."

Deanna beamed, hugging the doctor and smiling, "thank you, Beverly." The doctor stood stunned even as the Betazoid walked away to see the commander.

Troi walked in to see Data taking miniscule DNA samples from the first officer. She gave Data an assuring smile and let him proceed with his work. After the collection, Data brought the samples to the doctor.

Troi grasped Will's hand and he let his eyes flutter open. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Dizzy mostly," he answered in a candid way, "breathing is a little irksome," he smiled. In Riker's company again, no matter how drowsy or sick he was, she was at ease again. She was worried as one would be but relived and finally once again comfortable after the brief separation period. She tried not to think about how communicable the virus could be, instead she focused on brushing Riker's hair out of his face as he breathed deeply and shut his eyes.


	3. The Tarses Interruption

_Personal Log: Simon Tarses. A member of my staff who had long been a picture of perfect compliance and performance has suddenly collapsed while trying to bring down the virus induced fever of First Officer Commander Riker. Currently a member of the staff is working on a scan to conclude whether or not the virus has been transmitted from Commander Riker. If so, this will be the first member of the crew without completely human physiology to become sick. This will provide further complications to our efforts._

Beverly finished her log and approached the andorian staff member assigned to Simon Tarses. "What have you found?"

"It's not good news," the staff member replied, "based on what we have on the virus it looks like the chances that Simon has gotten it are extremely likely. It matches everything we have available and there is as of yet, no explanation for the loss of consciousness."

Beverly could tell that the male andorian was trying to be professional, despite an emotional attachment. Much of her staff was quite close, as she seemed to be with the bridge crew and other leaders of the respective departments. "If this is too close to you-" she started.

"I assure you, Dr. Crusher, I can and will continue to preform my duties as I always have."

"That's not what I mean," she explained, "if this is hard for you I can always assign the position to Commander Data."

The andorian smiled beneath his messy silver hair, no doubt from over working. "As much as I would appreciate that, I would like to stay close to him. It may seem unprofessional so forgive me, doctor but I do wan to ensure the safety of Simon to the best of my abilities."

"At the very least you can get some rest and that's an order." Beverly stated, smiling understandably.

"Thank you, doctor."

"Data?" The doctor called out.

"Yes, doctor?"

"I am assigning you to Simon Tarses. He is of one fourth Vulcan physiology and I see you best qualified to understand the variables involved in that."

"Understood."

Riker loved waking up to Deanna's face and possibly more so after seeing her reaction to him waking up. Her brightening smile overpowering him as she realized that he was awake again at last. "You look well." Deanna offered, not completely falsely. He did look better than when he was burning bright red from a dangerous fever of spilling his guts out into a toilet.

"Would you believe I just woke up like this?" He grinned.

After a short period of friendly conversing, Riker's expression changed suddenly as Deanna felt some kind of cloud of pain briefly envelop her. Before the Commander's stomach growled tediously. He hadn't eaten for over twenty four hours and it was starting to manifest palpably and uncomfortably. Riker winced and Troi's face softened sympathetically. "I'll go get you something to eat." She stated, before standing up. "It won't take me long." She smiled, "try not to fall asleep."

"Don't forget something for me to throw it back up into," Riker groaned, rolling over and resisting the urge to close his eyes.

Simon awoke to a blur of yellow, trying to command his eyes to cooperate and focus. The brightness overwhelmed him, shooting into the back of his pupils and distorting his thoughts temporarily. His head began to ache unbelievably and a wave of nausea accompanied it. He forced his eyes to blink harshly and rapidly, demanding them to focus to see the friendly bridge android standing over him, working. "Commander Data... I wasn't expecting to see you here." He managed to say.

"I do not doubt that as I am by no means in my element here. In fact, I do not recall ever having worked in sick bay before."

"Nor do I," Simon replied, doing his best to remain friendly and encouraging in his deteriorating condition.

Data stared blankly for a moment, "how are you feeling?" he asked finally, leaving Simon to wonder whether he was trying to extend friendly courtesy or asking for the sake of preforming his duties.

"Confused, honestly." Simon answered. "I don't remember how I got into this bed. Or, for that matter, how you got here."

"That would be due to the fact that you had collapsed and remained unconscious until now."

A panicked look swept over Simon's face but he kept his composure as best he could. "Any indication of brain damage?"

"None as of yet. I would imagine the Vulcan physiology you carry genetically would maintain brain activity in that event more efficiently than that of someone completely human."

Simon's brow furrowed, "well that's a relief," he sighed.

"Your facial patters would suggest otherwise."

"Sorry," Simon weakly lifted his arms to massage his temples. "My head is killing me."

Data checked his scan again, "there is no indication that your head is causing any biological deterioration that could result in your death. However, I am getting readings of muscle contraction in that area closely resembling that of a migraine."

Data noticed a pat on his shoulder and looked to see Dr. Crusher touching him. "That's enough Data, you're dismissed. If you would look over the readings from simon ad cross reference from the new and old samples of the virus?"

"Right away, doctor."

"How are you feeling, Simon?" Beverly asked.

"Not horrible, considering," he answered honestly. "After seeing what Commander Riker went through I thought I would be in much worse shape."

"Symptoms?"

"Migraine, I suppose."

The doctor smiled, "I'll have Data look that over for you."

Beverly turned to leave before Simon spoke up again, "did I catch the virus?"

The doctor sighed, "it looks that way but so far there's really no telling what will happen. As of right now, Wesley has been reading and sleeping, his last symptom was a rash and it was easily dealt with."

Simon stared blankly before nodding, "thank you, doctor."

Beverly quickly alerted her andorian staff member that Simon was awake and gave him the option of returning which he decided to take while Data was overlooking the results, playing Sherlock Holmes with clues and deduction.

Data had done everything he could to analyse the virus and began looking at the physiology of those infected instead. Commander Riker's symptoms seemed to be manifesting as a gastrointestinal infection or a very severe case of norovirus, which was unlikely aboard the enterprise. Simon Tarses' symptoms seemed to be manifesting in both syncope and migraine adjacent symptoms. Then Wesley Crusher, his symptoms had to be the most spontaneous.

Data checked the past medical records of the crew members affected. "Doctor?" He asked Beverly, "do you know if Simon Tarses has had any past history of migraines?"

"I'll get right on that, Data." She said, proceeding to first check on her son and then present the question to Simon himself.

Data continued his search. While on shore leave Commander Riker seemed to have gotten a fairly severe gastrointestinal infection. If Data hadn't known about the virus, he would have dismissed it as such. The doctor returned, "no history of chronic migraines."

"Interesting." Data continued in his analysing.

Troi returned to Riker's side to see him fighting against his fatigue with a tray. "It is tediously difficult to bring food in with a level one quarantine in action," she sighed.

"Well I admire your perseverance, thirty more seconds and I would have been out cold."

"Well then I admire yours as well." she laughed, "I have crackers, sport's drink, toast, soup, ginger ale, water and Klingon Burgh Remedy."

Riker gagged before composing himself by resting the back of his hand against his mouth. "Sounds appetizing, I think I'll stick with the toast and water."

Deanna laughed, handing him the toast, he tore a small piece of and proceeded to force himself into chewing. She followed up by bringing the water to his mouth, to ease his swallowing.

The andorian was frantic. He has employed a couple hypos and several heat blankets to improve Simon's temperature but he kept getting colder. The pointed eared medical officer had been crying since it happened and the andorian was doing the best he could to comfort him. The andorian cringed as he left the side of his crew mate, setting up a kelassium hypo as Simon's appetite had diminished. Simon fought against the cold metal as the andorian soothed him, gently brushing his fingers through Simon's hair.

"Data there has been a new symptom manifested in Simon Tarses." Data awaited a response. "Temperature fluctuation but the opposite of Commander Riker. Simon's body is decreasing in temperature.

"Fascinating." Data postulated, "I've been working on a theory, doctor and this seems to have given me what I had needed. It would seem that-" Data stopped what he had been saying, staring into empty space. "Excuse me, doctor. As I was saying, the theory I have been-" A whirring sound began in Data's chest, causing him to look down and examine it. "Peculiar. I can't seem to finish- finish my- the theory, doctor." Data began to look concerned. He manoeuvred into a standing position while Beverly stared, wide eyed, trying her best to analyse the situation. "Pardon me, doctor. It would seem-" Data was unable to finish before he collapsed.


End file.
